


Dignity

by ringofdoubt



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Orlesian Grand Game (Dragon Age), vivienne-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringofdoubt/pseuds/ringofdoubt
Summary: Vivienne grieves for Bastien and struggles to find the right words to inform his family of his death. Josephine helps her.
Relationships: Bastien de Ghislain/Vivienne, Josephine Montilyet & Vivienne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Dignity

Vivienne laid out a blank sheet of paper, adjusting it slightly until its edges ran parallel to the edges of her desk. Next, she set a pot of ink perpendicular to the top right corner of the paper. She straightened her back then took a long, deep breath. This needed to be done – and the sooner the better.

She picked up her quill and allowed herself to run her other hand over the luxurious purple phoenix tail feather. Bastien had been with her when she’d bought it. A quaint, travelling market had come to Ghislain and they’d taken a stroll through it together. As she paid for the quill, he’d noticed the merchant’s Anvitan accent and taken it upon himself to practice his appalling Antivan language skills. He’d attempted to ask the man how many years he’d been a stationary merchant but ended up calling him something rather unsavoury. He had apologised profusely but once they were in private they laughed until their stomach muscles ached.

She couldn’t keep doing this. Bastien’s presence had permeated every aspect of her life for years – so, becoming misty-eyed over every mundane item with some tangential connection to him – ridiculous. She re-focused on the task of informing Bastien’s family of his death.

_My Dear Marcelline,_

_I regret that I must inform you that_

No. That was too formal. She crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it aside. 

_Dearest Marcelline,_

_I write to you with sad news_

No. ‘Sad’ was not the word. It was nowhere near enough.

_Dearest Marcelline,_

_I am afraid I am writing to you with devastating news_

No. Regardless of her true feelings, that was too strong – there was a danger of seeming insincere. It mustn’t look like she was trying to garner sympathy for her own gain. It was true that Bastien’s loss hurt more than she had ever imagined it could but she wasn’t about to don a widow’s veil and start wailing in public. She would approach her grief as she did everything else – with the upmost dignity.

Plus, her words must be chosen with care for another reason. Marcelline’s temper was volatile at the best of times and Vivienne could not afford, now more than ever, to be on the wrong side of the woman. Perhaps some would think it callous of her to be concerned with her own social standing so soon after loosing Bastien but she would have to be foolish not to see that his death threated her position. Cementing her friendship with Marcelline and with Bastien’s son, Laurent was vital. Bastien would have understood that too. 

She set out a fourth piece of paper and paused with the tip of her quill hovered over it. This was getting ludicrous. She was a master of The Game, she had talked her way up through the heights of high society, she should be able to write a simple letter in an appropriately delicate tone. 

But the ability to focus alluded her. She had spent so long pretending to herself that this was not inevitable. Even when every mage in her Circle had told them his illness was incurable – she had remained steadfast that they would find a cure. Every time she tried to write these letters she was forced again to face the truth – Bastien was really gone.

It seemed pointless to sit there when she was getting nowhere so instead she decided to take a walk. Not through the great hall though. More and more nobles flocked to Skyhold daily - if there was even a chance that one of them had heard about Bastien it would be disastrous. If she was seen discussing his death in public before she had informed Marcelline, well – it would be as good as spitting in her eye in front of the entire Council of Heralds.

She settled on going to the ambassador’s office. She would need to speak with her anyway to secure reliable couriers for her letters. She wasn’t about to lose her most powerful ally because some incompetent messenger delivered them to the wrong house, or ended up being robbed by bandits.

The ambassador was at her desk, scribbling away as usual, so engrossed as to not even notice that Vivienne had entered.

“My dear, I have some letters that absolutely must reach their intended recipients as swiftly as possible. Would you be so kind as to direct me to your most reliable courier?”

“Madame de Fer,” Josephine smiled when she looked up, “Of course. Where do these letters need to get to?”

“To Grand Cleric Marcelline and Duke Laurent de Ghislain,” she saw a flicker of understanding on the ambassador’s face when she recognised the names - but her polite smile did not falter. It was a welcome respite from the pitying looks the rest of the Inquisition's members had been offering her. Well-meaning but of no utility.

“Of course – and I am sorry for your loss, Lady Vivienne.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Leave your letters with me. I will personally oversee everything.”

“You’re too kind. I will be sure to bring them to you – once I actually find the words to write them.”

Josephine went quiet for a moment, looking lost in thought. 

“I met the Duke’s son once,” she began to speak quite slowly, as though she were still in the process of formulating her train of thought into something coherent.

“He’s a dear boy.” she truly meant that, she always had been very fond of Bastien’s son.

“The Inquisitor told me about the heart of the snowy wyvern. The way he described the hunt, it sounded so dangerous, so daring. Perhaps hearing the tale would be some comfort to Duke Laurent – knowing just how hard you and the Inquisition fought for Bastien.”

Vivienne could hardly believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. In truth, with hindsight, she felt incredibly foolish about asking the Inquisitor to hunt down the heart. It had been a desperate final attempt to stave off the inevitable, destined to fail. But Laurent would be impressed and flattered to have had the Inquisitor himself fighting to save his father. It was an impressive symbol of status, of how highly the Inquisition regarded his family.

“Of course,” Vivienne responded, “it would demonstrate what a powerful ally I still am, with the Inquisitor on hand-,” she interrupted herself, “You must think me dreadfully cold, worrying about rank and position when Bastien has only just -,” she stopped herself when she felt a lump in her throat.

For so many who played The Game – love was an exploitable weakness. To be seen not to care was advantageous. Yet the idea of anyone thinking she had not truly loved Bastien distressed her.

“Cold? Not at all, my Lady. I admire you’re ability to keep going. Even in grief, you are the picture of dignity.” 

To her horror, Vivienne felt tears welling in her eyes. How ironically undignified.

Without a word, the ambassador stood, walked towards her, and hugged her tightly. Vivienne knew she should pull away firmly. Part of her was offended that the ambassador had even attempted this. But instead, Vivienne allowed herself, just for a moment, to hug her back.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love Vivienne - I have a couple more (less angsty) Viv-centric fics planned too


End file.
